Sakura
by children of the Revolution
Summary: Wysteria is watching Daisyjo as she's working in her garden. Shoujoai, if you haven't figured that one out already.


Title: Sakura

Author: children of the Revolution

Fandom: My little pony

Disclaimer: Hasbro owns them.

Warnings: Shoujo-ai. Girlxgirl.

Rating: G

Chapter: One-shot 

Authors note: This was written for school, but not as an english assignment. I translated it because I quite like it.

We were told to write a story where either fire, water, earth or air played a major part, and so I choose earth and this fic was born. 

And if you wondered, 'sakura' is japanese for 'cherry tree'.

R&R (Read and review. And flame too if it makes you happy. :P After all, flamers are better than no reviews at all... -cough-)

-

I'm looking out through my window again.

It's not the first time, and it would greatly surprise me if it turns out to be the last.

You are walking around in your blooming garden, like so many previous days, like so many coming. When I woke up this morning you had been out for a long time already. You weed the garden back then, now you're watering it.

The big green watering-can may have been heavy the first times you lifted it, but now you are accustomed to its weight and you're walking with easy steps from flower to flower. Tulips, daisies, lilies.

Roses.

The roses I gave you, do you remember? Yellow roses, since red ones would've given away my feelings too easy.

You stop in front of them for a while and smile. But you did that to the sunflowers you got from Sunny Daze too. And to the oxeye daisies from Fluttershy. 

Even if I would like to think otherwise, I guess my roses are of no special importance to you.

You continue your walk, smiling in happiness and pride over your beautiful garden. And after you've put down the watering-can you even whistle for a while. 

Your long blonde mane are braided today. When you're walking the tips of your golden and glittery hair are beeing dragged through the mud, but I don't think you even notice it.

Now you're standing there.

Right in front of your favorite tree, the little lightpink flowers have began to burst open, and I can see your smile grow wider and wider for every second.

That tree was the very first tree you planted in your garden, I guess it reminds you of all the friends you've made since you moved in here, 'cause every year when that tree is blooming you get so happy. 

You can't just stand still there any longer. Round and round in your garden you dance, carefully avoiding the flowers but happily jumping into the puddles that's left from yesterday's rain.

I've been standing here the whole morning, looking at you, admiring you, but now I hide behind my lightblue curtains.

Not because I'm afraid that you will see me.

Quite the opposite.

I've been standing here, day after day, because I want you to see me, _see_ me.

No, I hide because she throws a quick glance towards my window.

Cherry Blossom.

She's laying sprawled out over the green wooden bench, the one you and I painted together, and looks in amusement at you when you're dancing around. Then you slip and fall down into the mud. She's laughing so hard she gets tears in her eyes when she sees your surprised and terribly cute expression. You begin to laugh too, a couple of seconds later when the shock is gone.

I would laugh too.

If only this ache deep inside would disappear, I would laugh too.

I don't know if she came here early in the morning or if she spent the night at your house.

I don't know if she thinks of herself as your girlfriend, or if you think of yourself as hers.

I don't think I want to know either.

The only thing I can think about, is how beautiful everything is.

Cherry Blossom, shimmering deep pink skin that makes a beautiful contrast against our deep green bench, purple, white and pink hair, yellowgreen eyes, misty of tears.

Your garden, every tree, every flower, every bug, so amazingly beautiful.

The sky, I don't think it has ever been as beautiful as today.

The birds, the ones living in the tree, never before have they sung as beautiful as they do now. 

The tree, your favorite tree, never under any of the previous springs has it blossomed as beautiful as this year.

But you, Daisyjo, you are still the absolutely most beautiful.

The most beautiful of everyone, the most beautiful of everything.

It's funny, but even the dirt under your hooves seems beautiful today. 

Everything is beautiful.

Everything is so damn _beautiful_! 

And I feel a bit stupid, but after all these years, it's not before now that I really see it.

It's not before now that I finally understand it.

Your favorite tree is a cherry tree.

.:End:.


End file.
